The Crow: Forgotten Angels
by Wolfgang Thursday
Summary: Adding to the Life of Grace, from 'City of Angels.' Grace Finally Meets Roland, the new Gang leader after Judah, and is assigned to "training." AU R&R!
1. Scene 1

The Crow: Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
  
Author's Note: As a disclaimer, I am a fan, writing a FANfic. So, in other words, I pretty much own nothing that was from the movie, even though I wish I could have my own Ashe-concubine. This is just my little spin-off from "City of Angels," following Grace's life. Well, "Salvation" just, um, pissed me off. Unlike the first two, there were no old[returning] characters or any gang activity, and the whole scar-on-the-arm-thing in the beginning totally ruined the rest of the movie.   
  
Anyways, enough of my babbling, and I hope you enjoy my little fic.   
  
  
  
--Part I: Scene 1--  
  
  
  
She stood in the darkness, watching, just watching, as the smog from the night surround Ashe as he drove away. He was just another person that came and then left, nothing new. She held tighter onto the white cat in her arms, her fingers sliding into its silky fur. Inside, she wished she could go to a better place, too. A place away from the dark and cold, away from alleys and hunger; she wanted to go too, but who would take her? Her, some gutter scum living off scraps and hiding from gangs; she was nothing, and it seemed it would always be that way.   
  
She almost believed that people cared, that they cared about her existence. But no one did, not even herself. Countless days passed when she was hungry, alone and crying in some hidden corner on the streets. The world almost made her think that life had meaning, but it didn't. There was no meaning anymore, not to her life, not to anyone's. No, the days would continue were she sleep only after hours of insomniac, scared and only. Days will fall, turn into weeks, and then mouths, and finally years.   
  
A cold wind entangled Grace, coating her in a new numbness, adding to the pain that her empty stomach already laid upon her. The white cat in her arms rubbed its head up against Grace, as if to comfort its new owner. The chill of night nipped at her bare skin as hundreds of penetrating needles reminded Grace of who and what she was. Silently, the girl walked back into the shadows of whence she came, holding ever tighter to her only friend that rested in her arms. There, in the shadows of ruined buildings, she rested among trash and fell into a state only worthy of the title "sleep."  
  
As her lids closed, the blackness came. The endless void of turmoil and everlasting woe filled the emptiness inside of her. Like an eternal snowstorm, the shut off light swam in a hazy swirl upon Grace's sleeping eyes, turning and turning in a never-ending spiral. Slowly, hesitantly, Grace became suffocated by the tiredness lacing every frozen breath, and slumber finally overtook her aching body.   
  
Morning came and Grace suddenly became aware of her surroundings, though her eyes stayed shut, clinging to sleep. She felt the hard brick wall beneath her back and the uncomfortable stiffness of her bones. The ground was cold and damp, while her head throbbed terribly. Her cat stayed settled against her bare caves, sleeping soundlessly. Grace stood to stretch out her sore bones, when a flutter of wings caught her attention.   
  
On the ground before her hopped closer a black bird- a crow. The bleak morning sunlight shone off an object in is beak, and Grace crouched to get a better look. The crow dropped whatever it was in its mouth and flew high into the air, giving off one loud "caw" before disappearing. Grace loomed over the object, which turned out to be a gold ring, and stared at it in awe. She scooped up the ring into her hands and looked up to the heavens, searching, it seemed, for something. A cold gale passed, sending her long hair flying across her face. Her hand closed around the treasure she held, afraid if she opened her fingers the ring would have disappeared. 


	2. Scene 2

The Crow:Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
Author's Notes: Yes, i an still a FAN writing a FANfic, and am in no way making moeny off of this... but, I do have some plot growing with original characters now... So enjoy!  
  
  
  
Part I: Scene 2  
  
  
  
The ring looked out of place on Grace's filth cover finger. It's smooth, golden curves shone dimly from her bony hand, weary of a new owner. Her other hand lay entangled in the pure white fur of the cat in her lap. Her stomach growled, another breakfast-less day. Grace stared down the alley she sat in, her eyes lame and tired. What day was it again? Maybe Thursday. A pulsing throb pounded in Grace's head, newly awakened from a few hours of sleep and hunger picking at her ribs.   
  
With a sigh Grace rose from her seat on the ground and walked towards the street that connected to the alleyway. Grace shoved her hands in her empty pockets, not knowing where to go or what to do. A slight breeze blew old, stray newspaper across the ground. A trivial mist hung low to the ground, damp and chilling. The sun was just barely gracing the world with its light, making the streets seem sinister and wretched. With much will power, she subjugated a shiver.  
  
In brisk step she walked the back streets, her face to the ground and shoulders slouched. As she came behind an old apartment building she stopped, finally raising her head to look at the worn brown bricks of the stone building. Slowly she lifted herself onto the rusting black fire escape shadily attached to the back of the apartment. As she climbed the ladders she tried to find the answer of why she was here, but nothing came to mind. Reluctantly she stopped as she reached the floor she wanted and stopped beside a window.   
  
Pulling her hand out of the safety of her pocket, Grace tapped softly on the window. No answer. Again Grace tapped on the window, only this time more forcefully. Some grunts could be heard on the other side of the window, as well as footsteps. The curtain behind the window flew opened and reviled the reason why she was here. A man in his early twenties stood before Grace, bearing only boxers and a glare. His shoulder length brown hair shone with the look of not having been watched in a while and was tussled from sleep. With one last grunt the man opened the window.  
  
"What do you want," he asked in a voice half asleep, half annoyed. Grace merely shrugged her shoulders; she hasn't gotten that far yet to know the answer. The man looked Grace over quickly then slid to the side of the window, making a gesture allowing her to enter. "You still own me from the last time," he sighed. "You're starting to own me a lot, you know?" His voice mumbled as he pulled up some random pants thrown on his floor. "I'm not some charity that will give you what ever you want when you stop by, you know."   
  
"I know," Grace stated flatly, looking away as the man got dressed. "Now that Spider Monkey is, well, "gone"… I won't be spending as much… And, and I'll pay you back." Grace back at the man, "I promise, John…" She waited as John pulled a shirt over his shoulders past his head, messing his hair with his hands before he continued.  
  
"I need some payment, Grace. Look, I know this guy…" John started, "He'll clean you up and give you a nice job out on the streets." A vacant look crossed Graces face, her eyes blank, but yet holding so much untold emotion. John walked over to the girl and rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I don't know what else to tell you." He gave a tight squeeze and then let go and headed for what looked like a kitchen hidden under masses of trash and clothes.   
  
"His name's Roland," John explained as he opened up the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of beer. "You seem a little… eh… lean though. But I'm sure after a while meat will start growing on your bones, Roland takes care of his… ladies…" John twisted off the bottle top of his beer and took a quick chug before he continued. "You'll stay at his brothel of sorts I guess, maybe do a little grunt work until you're fit." With another chug he finished off his drink and threw the bottle off behind him, landing in the clothes filled sink.   
  
"Okay," Grace muttered softly with her hands holding her elbows at her sides, she withdrew into her self. John messed graces hair with his hand and said nothing; nothing more had to be contributed to the somber mood. Grace trembled while trying to hold back tears; she didn't want to turn into her mother. 


	3. Scene 3

The Crow: Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is a little short, I know... But i'm doing it in scenes, and the next one will be out shortly. Plus, it slips in a little character developement. Again, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, I'm not that great of a proof reader. Ans as always, I hope you enjoy.  
  
And don't forget to review!!!   
  
  
  
Part I: Scene 3  
  
  
  
A rat. A street rat. That's how she felt, like some scummy rat that crawled in off the streets. And in a way, she was. She had crawled off the streets, she had been fitly and scummy, and now… now she looked upon herself in the half-body mirror that hung on John's bathroom wall. She was disgusted. Grace whipped away a stray tear that dared to fall from her eye and caught sight of the right that still rested on her finger. She pulled her hand back slowly and stared blankly at herself.   
  
"How could anyone… "clean" me up?" Grace whispered to the girl in the mirror. With a heavy sigh she started to disrobe for the bath John told her to take. The hidden skin newly revealed almost seemed pure, clean. Almost… Grace ran the water, suddenly cold and self-conscious of the world around. Hot water poured into the dirty bathtub, filling up gradually. Idlely, Grace dipped her hand in the water and mixed it slowly, her eyes distant and tired.   
  
When the tub was almost full she stopped the water and climbed into its inviting embrace. The heat soothed her body, seeping deep into her bones. Grace would of fallen asleep then and there, if it weren't for the thoughts flushing through her mind. Was this really happening? This life? This pain? Who's to care about a girl like her? Some street rat… Not even her own mother…  
  
She could hold them back no longer, the tears started to freely fall, trailing down the dirt on her face. 'No!' Her mind screamed while she wrapped her arms around herself, 'Crying won't give me anything. It wont give me money.' Her body rocked in the water and her nails dug into her the skin of her arms. "No." 


	4. Scene 4

The Crow: Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
  
Author's Note: As a disclaimer, I am a fan, writing a FANfic. So, in other words, I pretty much own nothing that was from the movie, even though I wish I could have my own Ashe-concubine. I tried to describe part of the movie in this chapter, so please bear with me if it wasn't that great. I know that the chapters have been really short, but I have Scene 5 done already, so that will make the third updated today! Anyways, enjoy, like always!  
  
  
  
Part I: Scene 4  
  
  
  
John awaited Grace in the main room of him cramped apartment. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, his eye widened at how different she looked. Without the dirt on her skin, Grace only appeared more fragile with her pale complexion and wet hair. Her round face magnified her eyes, dawning an innocent look to her distressing features. 'Ironic,' John thought to himself, 'like life is playing some sick game.'   
  
Grace flushed under the stare John was giving, her arms once again wrapping around her body in a comforting hug. The bath had left her mind throbbing, and reminded her body of how tired she really was. As if in tone with her mind, Grace's stomach growled.   
  
"Alright," John started, holding back a smile at the deep blush that ran across the sad girls cheeks before him, "I'll take you out for a quick lunch, nothing big- I'm low in cash at the moment- then I'll take you to go see Roland." He pulled out a leather jacket from a pile of clothes next to him and put it on. "Who knows, you might make some friends." John flashed a smile at Grace, but grinned when he noticed she was silently crying.   
  
Grace's head hung low, ashamed at the pitiful act of crying. She felt John's hand pat her back, his other pulling her into a comforting hug. Grace cried more freely now, unable to keep the emotions back any longer. What was it she was turning into? She thought her life would be better since she left bad habits behind. Now… now this was happening.   
  
'Is some god laughing at me?' Grace screamed mentally, clinging onto John, her head laying on his shoulder. 'Does what I feel mean nothing?' Grace feel limb in John's arms, emotionally drained from her internal war.   
  
"No…" It came off her lips in a hush, barely heard by herself, as her eyes shut in vain to end the tears. John rocked the crying girl in arms gently, leaning over to kiss her head softly as she passed from him into the arms of sleep. 


	5. Scene 5

The Crow: Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Eh, part 5 is up! And chapter 6 is o its way, very soon... hopefully. Anyways, I am sorry if Grace is a little bit on the "cry-baby" side, but, I was just thinking of how a girl might act when she is forced to sell her body for food... Well, thats all for now. Viva Le Crow!  
  
  
  
Part I: Scene 5  
  
  
  
A motorcycle speeded down the barren streets. The driver was John, while behind him sat Grace, her arms nervously wrapped around his waist. John pulled up in front of a tall, brown stoned building adorned with gothic statues.   
  
"Judah's Tower." Grace said to herself, causing John to turn around and give her a concerning glance. "I've heard about it-from Spider Monkey- but I never went in…" Both their eyes scanned it for a moment, taking in the sheer size and beauty of it. "What are we doing her?" Grace asked softly while lifting herself off the bike.   
  
"Eh, well… Judah's been… "eliminated," and Roland took the opportunity to merge Judah's territory with his own." John grunted as he threw his leg over the bike. He led Grace into the tower, telling her to stay close to him.   
  
As they entered two massive, leather-trench-coat claded men, greeted them. They nodded at John, letting him continue to lead Grace up a flight of stairs. The stairs climbed into a hallway with columns mad of a thin sheet of material with bodings pressing against the columns from within. They walked down the hallway to another set of stairs that lead up into a large crowd of people, like some sea of flesh and leather. John grabbed Grace's wrist and pulled her after him as he pushed through the people.  
  
Grace caught a glance of two women seeming to be giving off a show. They both wear twin leather outfits resembling bathing suits, only with the section over their breasts cut out. They wore spiked collars around their necks, a chain connecting them around a pole that came out from the ground. The taller of the two women ran her hands down her own body while the second licked the taller, her hands following the first's.   
  
'Is this my future?' Grace thought as bodies all around pressed up against her, a stray hand feeling her until disappearing into the ocean of people. John held tighter onto Grace as they reached the end of the crowd, breaking way to a door, which John opened with his free hand. Behind the door rested a spiral staircase climbing up many floors. John never left his grip on Grace's wrist, pulling her up the stairs the whole way, causing her to be quite tired. At last John reached the floor he wanted and finally let go of grace.   
  
"I'll do the talking, okay?" Grace just nodded at John. 'Its too late now,' she muttered mentally, following John into the room beyond the door. 


	6. Scene 6

The Crow: Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Twis the holiday seasons. Don't think I still did a disclaimer, but again, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.  
  
  
  
Part I: Scene 6  
  
  
  
John brought Grace into a room with an open, steel-cage like structure. No one else could be seen. John told Grace to wait while he found and spoke to Roland. So she did, looking around the room to amuse herself.   
  
"Who are you?" Grace jumped, startled, and turned to look at who was talking to her. A woman draped in a blue and purple gown glared back at Grace from under her veil, or so Grace thought. "Why are you here?" her soft voice questioned again as she took a step back from Grace, almost as if cowering.   
  
"Grace!" It was John's voice. Grace turned to see him walk from behind a curtain. "Come on, Roland wants to see you." Grace turned back to excuse herself from the stranger, but the woman was no longer there. Nervously, she walked to where John stood and followed him to Roland. "Just answer his questions, you'll be fine," and with that John shoved Grace alone into the room with Roland. But she wasn't alone.   
  
Roland sat on a couch, women on both sides of him. The closest ran their hands along his body, others whispered in his ear or purred softly. He looked a well-built man, tall and rough. The figures of his face were long and sharp, accented by his long brown hair. Roland sat clad in a leather trench coat accompanied by leather pants, and nothing else. His mouth was twisted in a smile and his eyes appeared to draw any light that shone on them.  
  
Grace straightened under Roland's stare, lifting her chin and rolling back her shoulders. Now, all sets of eyes were on her, searching, analyzing, grading. The pit of her stomach tightened, nausea washing over her body. Dissection. They were cutting her apart with their eyes, with their silence. Roland scratched his chin in thought, tilting his head to one side as if it would give him a better view.   
  
"How old are you, again?" He asked, his voice deep and thick, with some kind of European accent that Grace could not identify.   
  
"Sixteen, seventeen soon, though." Grace answered in her quiet voice, trying not to stare at his eyes, but yet not wanting to give in and look at the floor. Her hands found each other behind her back and nervously her fingers began to twine. Why was she here? She wasn't what they wanted her to be. Not this rat, not this pile of bones.   
  
"Do you have any experience in this… field?" Grace's face began to heat as she remembered she hadn't, she didn't what she was doing. "Hm…" Roland rose from his sit, causing some of the woman to whimper, and walked a slow circle around Grace, looking up and then down, trying not to miss any detail. "It's a challenge, wouldn't you say?" He asked towards the women to the couch, who whispered and giggled, only causing Grace to blush even deeper.   
  
"You always liked challenges, Master," a woman from the couch purred, swinging back her long black hair over her bare shoulder as she grinned at Grace. Her eyes were piercing, almost laughing at her. Roland wanted woman like her, not clueless little girls. "But I didn't know you believed in miracles." The women all laughed at the joke, while internally Grace was killing what little self-esteem she had left.   
  
"Hush!" Immediately, all the women fell silent at the harsh tint in their master's Voice, some even cowering behind the women with the long black hair. "Poor child," Roland returned his attention to Grace, his voice quiet so the others wouldn't hear. "Life is wicked, twisted. Know this, and forget all you ever knew. You need no sense of shame to do what you are asking from me…" He stepped in closer to her and trailed the blush across her face with his deep eyes. "The shier they are, the louder they become," he whispered in Grace's ear before turning back towards the couch, "Joanna."  
  
"Yes, Master?" The black hair women asked, a fierce look in her features.   
  
"I want you to take Grace under your wing. Show her around, teach her." Joanna grunted a 'yes, Master' and frowned at Grace. "Now," Roland shouted, causing the woman to jump from the couch and bow before dragging Grace off by the arm. 


	7. Scene 7

The Crow: Forgotten Angels  
-Grace's Story-  
  
  
  
Authors Note: Sorry its short! I plan on them getting longer.  
  
  
Part I: Scene 7  
  
  
  
Angered hands pushed Grace back into the room with the cage. John stood near the curtain with hands in pockets, waiting. His brown eyes looked up to see Grace trip, falling on her side and sliding, while Joanna stalked over her.   
  
"He should just throw you in the trash! We don't need worthless piles of shit and bones here. You disgrace us, all of us!" Joanna pulled grace up to her feet. By a tug of her long hair, Grace's head jerked back, her pale eyes meeting the black ones of the woman before her. "You're a waste of my time," she snarled, her synthetic fangs shinning dangerously. Joanna raised her hand to slap the girl, but just as her arm began to fall down, her wrist was caught.   
  
"That's not very lady-like," John stated flatly. "Nor is it very smart." Confused and bewildered, Grace stared at John, who only gave her a mournful smile while letting go of Joanna's hand. "Roland wouldn't approve, and you know it." He hissed, shoving the violent woman away from Grace.   
  
"Look, she's entrusted to me! She's not your bitch anymore," The fanged woman spat back, her face tense with annoyance. Grace stood dumbfounded between the two quarrelling persons, her mind lost in what was happening. She must have no shame, she must learn to forget. She looked over at John, and then sheepishly turned towards Joanna. "Your presence is no longer needed, take your leave," the fanged woman said between her teeth to John.   
  
With one last glance at Grace, John shrugged his shoulders and walked off, leaving the two alone. Grace could feel the black eyes on her, burning holes in her. What was there to do? She must relearn life. Joanna was her mentor, her savior. Realizing how Joanna quiet the black haired woman was being, Grace broke out of her thoughts to see Joanna Staring back into the room were Roland was.   
  
Some moans from behind the curtain broke the silence that settled between them. Grace stared blankly at the distressed look that covered the older woman's face.   
  
"Let's go…" Joanna whispered softly, leading Grace towards the door and out of the room. 


End file.
